Real men don't need feelings
by Deweynumbers
Summary: One shot - set at end of Series 1 Episode 6 - Gene's POV. A few thoughts after Alex leaves the station, based around the usual question - does he or doesn't he?


Real men don't need feelings

A few thoughts after the end of Series 1 Ep 6, based around the usual question – does he or doesn't he?

Disclaimer: Not my characters, settings etc, etc – but boy, I still miss them.

She'd left him - again – in the corridor at the station, floundering and desperately trying to hide his disappointment. As he turned away and scuttled back to the safety of his office, Gene Hunt felt a surge of anger and frustration. Detective Inspector Alex Drake, who was so very good at understanding the criminal mind. Ha! So far, she was only doing half the job. Wasn't it more important to listen to her colleagues? Didn't she realise how hard he found it to put his feelings into words?

As he poured a large whisky, Hunt realised that the really crushing sensation was being turned down in favour of that bloodless soft-boy barrister. How could an intelligent, attractive female prefer Evan White to DCI Gene Hunt?

No, he owed it to himself to think the 'Drake' problem through. Just another case to be worked out and then he could get things back into proportion. All he needed was the confidence to use a little psychiatry.

Bloody woman! He could almost hear Alex's posh tones instantly correcting him: "It's psychology, not psychiatry!"

What was it about Alex Drake? One massive irritation was the challenge she posed to his authority. It was the way she carried herself, and her talent for confrontation and argument. In his line of work the DCI was used to women with something to hide. Alex Drake, though, always took the direct approach and had a tendency to behave as if she was the one in charge. What a laugh!

It didn't make sense. If DI Drake was as clever as she appeared to be, where was that common respect he was entitled to receive as the senior officer? Why did she always annoy him by waltzing off on her own instead of coming to him for guidance? At this rate, it would be a cold day in Hell before she had any chance of promotion.

Even if she didn't have a high opinion of him, he was still the 'Guv'. There was no need to speak to him as if he was either a criminal or an idiot brother. Alex Drake seemed to treat most men with a measure of contempt, with the possible exception of her precious Evan White. Well, the 'Manc Lion' wasn't the sort to put up with that kind of treatment. Next time she refused to behave, he would insist that she went for a psychological evaluation.

Gene was happy to admit that a beautiful woman in CID was a daily bonus, helping to make getting up in the morning worthwhile. Except that 'happy' wasn't the right word.

Alex was a pleasure to look at, no doubt about it. Trouble was, behind all that education and training, she knew the full effect of those skimpy tops and tight, tight jeans. She refused to fade into the background and become just one of the team, so what was a poor bloke to do? He'd seen it time and again: women in the police force always caused trouble.

She would look him straight in the eye and fight him, inch for inch, when she believed in something. They were both fighters, definitely one thing they had in common. Would it be any worse going twelve rounds with Muhammed Ali?

Then there was that strange, maddening exhilaration after some of these encounters. It was as if Luigi had been serving shots all evening from the most expensive single malt in his cellar, and every beautiful glass on the house. Come to think of it, being drunk would be fine but DI Alex Drake was a perpetual headache. She just wouldn't leave anything alone.

She was as changeable as the weather, an irresistible force.

He was the immovable object, something to rely on.

She was a great detective, who still needed looking after. How many times had she had to be rescued?

She was her own woman, but they were bound together. Would he ever be able to let her go?

She was always talking. Like continual radio interference messing up his thoughts.

She was a colleague, even sometimes a friend, but impossible to pin down with her constant talk of leaving.

She was a restless soul, but he would point her in the right direction.

In the end it came down to one thing. Alex Drake was the unbeatable combination of his DI and his 'Bolly', and he would kill any man who came between them. Beautiful to look at, impossible to ignore, his DI, the woman he loved….

A sharp rap on the door. "Guv?" It was Ray, looking slightly anxious. "Just got word of something tasty down at the Arches. Uniform reckon it's either drugs or explosives. Should we take a look?"

Maybe he couldn't find the words, but he could wait for the right moment. DCI Hunt was used to waiting. For now the job would have to be enough.

"Guv? We can't afford to hang about – with the 'Boss' out of the office it'd be just like old times if we're first on the scene." Ray and Chris were both looking excited and ready for the chase.

Some things never changed at Fenchurch East. The criminal classes could always be counted on to take his mind off any little personal problems. Gene smiled grimly as he got to his feet and straightened his tie. "Real men's work at last, Raymondo. Grab your coat and let's fire up the Quattro!"


End file.
